For Theodore
by Irkala
Summary: The second to the three that I wanted to do in terms of the internal thought chains of the 3 Velvet siblings. These are rather enjoyable to write I must say, I guess I've always wondered what they thought deep down. One shot of course. The last one should be done soon.


Amongst the tides of the cosmos, there were very small moments of peace.

The rather serious young man watched them stir and churn, carefully counting the moments that it swelled and fell back. His slicked back, ghostly blond hair and pale complexion shimmered as the many moons above his head. His golden eyes pierced the very heavens above him.

He loved it here, as did his siblings.

This peculiar space, between the dimensions and dusts of fallen stars; there was a beauty he couldn't find anywhere else. There was color scheme painted by the universe, a skyline that literally reached out into infinity. He could never stay too long though—if he stayed to long he felt that somehow he was becoming less and less _real._Deep down, inside, that terrified him. Above all, he cherished his own being among the infinity of the cosmos. His sense of self, his true essence, all things that helped him recognize himself. It was the idea of losing his sense of self that truly kept him returning to that strange room between night, day, and time. After all, what better way to keep track of yourself than to juxtapose it unto those around you?

That was his method to the madness. He deeply cared for those around him though, the thought of losing them put a strange pain inside him—one he couldn't quite describe.

Tis a man's job to protect those who are dear to him no? Tis a man's job to help those around him as well. Tis a man's job to look after everyone he can. . .

He frowned.

What exactly was his purpose? His master had tried to explain it to him; maintaining the order of light and dark, chaos and order. It was all easy enough, but truly living it was much more difficult.

His older sister; she was a thick headed, reckless child. Sometimes he would swear she was the youngest—not him. His eldest sister was much quieter, and quite intimidating really. In her silence, sometimes he would swear he could hear whispers and incantations of ancient tongues. To be honest they both terrified him, the younger one: a fool who didn't know her own strength, and the eldest: a hesitant and focused schemer.

Perhaps he was over-exaggerating? Or maybe not.

No, they were indeed like that—sometimes that is.

He began to realize he was having a hard time remembering them; he had spent too much time here in the Naught. He began to make his way back, folding space and time into a tunnel to return to the strange place he tried to call _home._

Home.

Every step he took through the tunnel back pulled something in his heart; the power of a simple, little word. It was home, there, among his sisters and master. A part of him detested it; the room felt so cut off, so cramped and alone. Somehow though, he managed to like it a little more every time he returned. He felt that, somehow, his sisters' presences had saturated the place with their odd energy. His master's wisdom painted the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. They were _home_, not the actual room itself.

Was that possible?

It felt right though, the ones he so cared for and cherished were the ones that made it home for him anyway.

"A house doesn't make a home," his eldest sister had once told him. That always stuck with him. She had told him that when he asked where their home was so long ago, he had never forgotten that moment.

Now he was stronger, he could protect them, he could protect his master, he could protect himself. Sometimes his youngest sister would ask him why he was always so serious—the obnoxious thing never knew when to calm her restless mind anyway—he only responded with, "It is through focus we are at our best, and at my best, I can fulfill my duty."

She mocked him after saying that, but his eldest silently smiled to herself. He knew at least she understood, and somehow, she related. In all honesty he looked up to her, she was the shining example of quiet and focused experience he so yearned to be, and to impress Master.

Did he love them?

Love was something the young man had pondered time and time again. He had experienced it—or perhaps something like it with someone a long time ago. He still struggled at defining it, in all honesty it just seemed like paranoia, an uncomfortable feeling you get when you're around that special someone or something. Although, when he thought perhaps he had experienced it before with that someone, it felt different. For her, it was an anxiety, a tension, a lust—these were sinful things.

What he felt for his sisters was starkly different—bewilderment, embarrassment in the youngest one's case, but a deep caring for their wellbeing as well. One thing they all had in common was he wanted their safety, he wanted to protect them and prove to them he could. Yet, how could a word have two different meanings—or feelings?

Love was peculiar; he was satisfied at just leaving it at that.

The tunnel was beginning to constrict, the space funneling down—it was time to descend unto the familiar plane once more.

He thought of his awaiting master, of his awaiting sisters.

They all wondered where they came from, they all wondered why they were here, why they had the purpose they did—whatever it was. His youngest sister seemed to have the most trouble with this existential qualm, whereas his eldest showed no signs of struggling at all. Perhaps she had already figured it out, but when asked she simply shook her head, "In time it will become clear, don't struggle for it," is all she would say.

Even she had grown saddened by their other sister's pain. In truth, there was a confusion on her face as well. He had always assumed that perhaps she was just too proud to admit her hurt and uncertainty. There was nothing they could say—certainly nothing he could say, he still barely understood what this was all about anyway. They could only watch as their sister shed tear after tear during those long hours in the soft darkness.

That was truly painful to watch.

A frown began to appear on his face again. The door to the room he had come to know as home was getting closer and closer. He would make it so she wouldn't have to suffer any longer, and he would make not only her and his eldest proud, but his master too. They were all in this together, beings on the fringes of existence. They had each other, and somehow, I guess they could be looked at as a family.

A _family. . .?_

With that the frown began to disappear from his face, being replaced with a crooked smile.

"Such a strange family we are," he whispered to himself, stepping through the door to the awaiting familiar faces on the other side.

He felt he had an answer for them, he just had to find it.


End file.
